


Journeyman

by King_Orry



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, World War I, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Orry/pseuds/King_Orry
Summary: A short selection of poems retelling the story of a man lost in the desert as he looks back on his life.





	

I wander the desert sands under the deepest skies. No evil will haunt me.  
I am traveller, making his path.  
I will take my first steps.

Into the dark, into the folding dunes.  
Ruling this land with iron grip, that vast ocean of tiny pebbles, is laid to rest. Unloving.

Each grain, a small moment, frozen in time.  
A moan of the wind, and they are scattered and lost.  
Melting like the memories of a dying man.

But the dunes don't sink when the sand moves, they are monuments.  
They taunt, and dare. They will me to delve further and cry louder.  
But I bring light and of life.  
Travelling through these hostile lands is nothing but a thought.  
I have no objective.  
No true path.  
No end goal.  
I only walk.

I carry with me my lantern,  
Old candle, glass box.  
My only companion in this desolate world.  
Step after step I take, it only gets heavier.  
Down it comes, further and further after every stride through the unwelcoming terrain until finally the sand meets me as old friend.  
Eventually, I can do no more than sit and feel the flow of the wind.  
I sleep now, but I do not dream.  
Using the time only to pull together my wits for the next long trail.  
When I wake, I still only see the dark.  
For it is always dark.  
Until I light the candle.

Foot after heavy foot I press into the dry and unfriendly sand.  
The small elegant flame on the candle jumps and wavers with every footfall.  
I look out to see what lies ahead and I see only the dark,  
So I search again.  
I see nothing but the dunes, and the secrets they hold.  
In my youth I heard tales of whole villages lost to the sand.  
Buried and forgotten.  
I press onward to move away from my thoughts.  
I need only to remember;  
Think of moving.  
Moving forward to get away.

Acrid smoke attacks me like a wild beast,  
I try to find the direction of the wind.  
I take a hard right and quicken my pace.  
Pulling my scarf over my nose and mouth with my left hand, while pushing my right hand in front of my face so that the torch would protect my eyes.  
The smoke is dense and deep black, but I follow it nonetheless.

The ebb and flow of the dark cloud is now my mission, and I follow its movements,  
A predator stalking my prey.  
A clearing in the smoke shows me the orange air that surrounds and projects down onto all.  
The fire is so large it licks the stars and burns the sky.  
A reckless giant that turns all it touches into cinder and charred remains.  
I exit the cloud and walk down the coarse sand toward the flickering monster.  
The baked sand crunches under my feet now, turned hard by the inferno.  
I stop a short distance away from the fire, and watch the embers float up and into the air, circle at the height of their climb, and then tumble back towards the sand.  
An ember flickers past my eye and lazily makes an unsteady path around the fire.  
I follow it as it moves onward, pushing a new area into my line of view.  
I notice now the wooden skeletons of buildings.  
Blackened, charred and groaning.  
The heart of the fire.  
The small village that once stood in its place, now lost to time.

I notice a small structure slightly away from the fire and head towards it.  
Three pillars of stone stand before a dark hole scratched into the side of a sand dune.  
The darkness is absolute.  
Not even the light from the fire can brighten that terrible scar in the landscape.  
The pillars, the short flat obelisks, pointed to the deep recess.  
They beckon me closer.  
Not once during this long walk have I looked back,  
Not once have I looked behind me.  
Yet now I turn and watch the flames dance in the sky.  
It is beautiful and horrifying.  
I am fascinated by the crackle and roar.  
I finally turn into the cave and try to light my candle.  
The darkness has taken me again.  
Dropping the candle in my flurry for a light, I hear it run into the ground with a heavy crack.  
I fumble on the ground for it, but find only dry sand in my palms.  
It is lost.  
I stand and feel the cold air embrace me like a night wind, enveloping me.  
It whispers softly to me unwelcome thoughts.

I press myself onward, running my hand along the sharp textures of the rock wall.  
Feeling the air of the cave rush in and out, like the lungs of a great beast.  
A rumble in the ground snaps me to a standstill.  
The lowest of tremors, telling me this cave may become my tomb.  
Throw me back out, I want to curse.  
But in here it would be worthless, carrying my words forever, echoing even at my death.  
The trembling persists at my feet, I continue and press on and away.

Away from the screams and tears I walk.  
They will find no man here, only the craven who fled.  
The gunshot, the endless deep pounding of mortar.  
Beating the earth like a drum.  
Hard justice a coward faces.  
And after I had left, I knew I could not come back.  
I stumble and trip on the edge of an outcropped rock.  
I try and find the wall to push myself off, but it has gone. I fall into the opening, holding my hands before me.  
Another beating as I hit the ground.  
More dust in my eyes.  
The breathing of the cave stops, the air is not moving.  
I feel the pressure on my skin now, holding me like tar.  
I push up and stand.  
Hands shaking, more so than I usually notice.  
Should I be scared?  
My thoughts keep me moving.  
I smell smoke again, and the edges of the cave flicker and crackle with unfamiliar light.  
There is fire inside the cave somewhere.  
I have come so far.  
But yet how much further could I go?  
More than movement now. I walk with purpose.  
The intensity of the glow and the warmth of the cave growing with every footstep.

I watch my feet, noticing the mark each sole makes in the sand.  
It parts and moves to the side, leaving the smoothed print.  
Each fresh area of sand is changed,  
Defined and formed into something new.  
I still smell the smoke, no longer as acrid and strong.  
I feel claws of the smoke digging into my throat, and the daggers in my eyes.  
Pull up the scarf. Move along.  
This is not how I die.  
I refuse to believe that even after running, I would still be killed by the air in my lungs.  
The gas had tried to kill me, as it had killed the rest of them.  
A pound to the earth near home.  
A bell, a whistle, and then death all around.  
The smog had closed in like a wave, carried by the wind.  
Their bodies left so tormented and abused that not even the lice would touch them.  
They were left aside, for they were just carrion.  
I the feel hot streaks of salted water roll down my cheeks, and I can wait no longer.  
I am running in the dark now.  
Choking.  
Dying in the dark.

The cave opens into a clearing.  
The edges of the wall still dance with the flicker of a fire.  
Set aside from the exit is a small burning pile.  
I pull down the scarf and breathe the thick air.  
Now, I am awake.  
I run my arm over my face, crossing over my eyes,  
Throwing soot ridden tears to the ground.  
I turn again, to view the cave exit, expecting to see another tear in the the landscape, or a terrible scratch.  
But here it lies.  
A colossal carved wall, embedded with four figures, hundreds of feet tall.  
Small glyphs etched at the pillar of each.  
I realise that I have stumbled onto hallowed earth.  
For this could only stand as a testament to life or death.  
A monument, to all my sins.  
I beg to go, but the fire leads my thoughts.  
Who else would isolate themselves so absolutely.  
Leaving no footprints, only a trail of flames.  
Vanishing like a breath in the wind.  
I realise I have to leave.  
I am no part of this site, when my footprints mark the ground, they defile the earth.  
I must move forward,  
Into dawn.  
Forward again, once more.  
Out into the open, vast expansiveness of the sand.

I guide myself by the light of the moon.  
The lustre is interrupted occasionally by the passing clouds.  
I greet the moon as an old friend.  
Her seas, her craters, her mystique.  
Every philosopher, scientist and literary has examined her.  
Through every war, every conflict for territory, she has never been claimed nor taken.  
No single country can possibly deserve her.  
To be admired every night, to be gazed upon from so far away.  
Such power belongs only to the divine.

 

Another tremor, but far away.  
A loud rumble, and then, nothing.  
Silence again.  
For the last time I turn.  
The statues have fallen.  
Their great stone pillars lie cracked in the sand.  
Arms, legs and sceptres strewn across the desert.  
They lie in great heaps of rubble.  
A chaotic pile of carved stone, the last remains of a long lost ruler, the relics of an empire.  
Gone.  
All belongs to the sand dunes now.

Is it my turn to fall,  
Or to burn?  
Everything else has gone.  
There is nothing here but the echoes of time, and a lost world.  
This is my end, my burial. 

Leading me nowhere, I journeyed to discover what I already knew.  
I am Afraid.  
I cannot be more than I am.  
The man unfit to fight a war with no escape

I glance to my right and see a small bush.  
Odd that it should be in the sand.  
I take my scarf from my neck.  
I take a match from my pocket.  
I place the burning rag on the bush, and start walking in the moonlight.  
The man who embraced fear, like family. 

I am home.

**Author's Note:**

> A little writing experiment I did a while ago.  
> Thought I might as well post it here, see if people like the style and tone.
> 
> Constructive criticism is very welcome and appreciated.  
> Hope you enjoyed  
> :)


End file.
